Even When I Dream of You
by piperkathleenpotter
Summary: On the day of her wedding, Rachel Berry receives devastating news that makes her realize who she really loves. But is it too late?
1. Chapter 1

She smoothed her palm down the full, silky skirt of her dress, eyeing herself critically in the mirror. Today was a very important day, and while she was always concerned about her appearance, she had to look perfect now.

The dress fit like a dream; the bodice accentuated all the right things, including the breasts she had always been, if truth be told, a little insecure about. The skirt was full and light, swinging gracefully about her legs and making her think of Grace Kelly. She'd put up her hair in a simple bun, to which Mercedes had affixed the veil, a few stray tendrils framing her face charmingly.

Rachel smothered a sigh as she looked around her. They were situated in a small room in the Lima City Hall building, the girls wearing the bright pink dresses, the boys wearing tuxes with matching pink flowers in their lapel. She couldn't help but smile at their beloved, beautiful faces.

The McKinley High School Glee Club, the people who loved her the most in the world, with the exception of her dads, of course. Two of their number were missing—one was the groom, who was waiting with the justice of the peace in the main room.

The other…

She swallowed hard, thinking of the explosive argument she'd had with Quinn Fabray only a week before in the bridal shop. Quinn had looked stunning in her simple pink bridesmaids dress, one of the reasons Rachel had chosen them, but her views of this wedding weren't nearly as rosy.

"_I won't stand by while you ruin your life by marrying Finn Hudson!"_

Rachel didn't like to think about what had happened next, the heated, hateful words exchanged. She'd accused Quinn of wanting Finn for herself, of not really being her friend, of being the same Head Bitch in Charge she'd been sophomore year. Rachel Berry, who was by no means a calm person, had never been so angry or said such things in her life.

Quinn, clearly hurt, hadn't said anything in her defense. She'd simply looked at Rachel with wounded, tear-filled eyes, turned smartly on her heel, and left.

They hadn't spoken since then, although Rachel ached to apologize. She just wasn't sure how to start, nor did she understand why Quinn's passionate pleas had left her with such strange, wild emotions. The way Quinn had looked at her, as if…as if…

Well, as if she'd have liked to grab Rachel by she shoulders and kiss her, almost.

She barely stopped herself from jumping out of her skin when Brittany gently took her hand. "Come on, Rachel," she said, with her usual sweet smile. "It's time."

The others followed her and Brittany out of the room, leading her to the double doors opening on the main hall. Hiram and Leroy stood there, both looking resplendent in the elegant tuxedoes Rachel had picked out for them. Brittany took her place by Santana, while each of Rachel's fathers offered her an arm.

"Ready, button?" Hiram asked, and Rachel, pushing all thoughts of Quinn aside, nodded.

"Ready," she said.

First, her friends—all in pairs: Kurt and Blaine, Tina and Mike, Santana and Brittany, Mercedes and Sam, Sugar and Rory, with Puck pushing Artie in the wheelchair in the rear—followed by Mr. Schue and Miss Pilsbury. Rachel hadn't intended to have them in the ceremony, but when she'd seen the Glee club gathered around her as she got ready, it seemed wrong not to have Will Schuester there, too.

The Berry family was halfway down the aisle when the sound of high heels clacking frantically against the marble floors made them pause, turn. A wild-eyed blonde woman, who Rachel recognized as Quinn's mother, was framed in the doorway, her features twisted in a blind panic.

And, somehow, in that moment, Rachel knew.

"Oh, God." Rachel breathed, her knees giving out. "Mrs. Fabray? Judy? Judy!"

Calling her name for a fourth time, stumbling out of her father's grasp, she got to the woman, who was by now sobbing hysterically. She framed Judy's face between her hands, gently urging her to focus.

"Quinn—Quinn's been in a car accident," Judy sobbed, gripping the doorway so tightly her knuckles were white. "She's—she—"

Even though she had felt it the moment her eyes had fallen on Judy Fabray, the word that came next still wrenched Rachel's world apart. She had started screaming before Judy even said it, before Judy herself had fallen apart, sinking to her knees and tearing at the blonde hair which was so like Quinn's had been.

"She's dead!"

She was aware, in that tiny sliver of herself that was not absolutely shattered, of a pair of male arms around her. It could have been any of a number of boys—Finn, one of her fathers, Mr. Schue, who had been only a few feet away from her upon Mrs. Fabray's entrance—but it didn't matter. Rachel couldn't feel the man's embrace, couldn't hear the words of solace he was surely pouring in her ear.

Nothing mattered except Quinn was dead. Quinn. Quinn!

Rachel didn't know she was screaming the name, didn't know she had torn the veil out of her hair and the engagement ring off her finger, flinging them both away from her. Quinn's last words, the way she'd begged Rachel not to go through with this, were echoing like gunshots in her head.

And then, through the fog, a question came to her mind. She looked up at Judy, who was also wracked with sobs, and asked, "Why did you come here?"

The woman struggled to compose herself enough for speech. "My Quinnie would have wanted me to," she managed. "She loved you all so much."

Behind her, Rachel could hear the rest of the Glee club, all mourning Quinn. She realized the person holding her was Kurt Hummel, who was looking at Judy with the strangest mixture of grief and understanding on his face.

"There's something more, isn't there?" he asked softly. "Something about Rachel."

Twisting in his arms to look more closely at his face, Rachel gaped at him. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "Do you know something?"

Kurt, saying nothing, simply nodded at Judy. Rachel turned back to the woman, who, to her complete shock, was holding out a letter.

"There's more of them," Judy said. "A whole box of them. I—the police found this one on the passenger seat of her car, and the box was hidden in the glove compartment."

A whole box of letters? Rachel's mind was reeling, the world around her tilting and swirling dangerously like a whirlpool threatening to pull her under. A whole box of letters, from Quinn Fabray to her?

Why?

It was two days after the disastrous attempt at a wedding, two days after Rachel Berry had received the singlehandedly most devastating news of her life. She sat on her bed, a simple little box, made from oak and carved with what appeared to be—Rachel blinked tears away—gardenias, in front of her on the bed.

Quinn's funeral was in three hours.

She couldn't bring herself to read any of the letters, although she had opened and closed the lid of the box several times, staring at the packet of letters, bound with what appeared to be the ribbon from Quinn's prom corsage.

Had she figured it out? Had she known that the lovely, unassuming corsage hadn't been Finn's idea at all—but Rachel's?

Rachel had always been fascinated by flower lore, what each blossom and bloom meant. She thought that flowers having their own meaning, almost their own language, was a beautiful, archaic idea, something Audrey Hepburn or Rita Hayworth would know.

Gardenia's meant _secret love._

Looking back now, over the past three years, it was all too clear to Rachel why that particular flower had sprung to her mind when she thought of Quinn. She gripped the box with both hands, barely resisting the urge to fling it across the room. She was so ashamed of herself, of how stupid she had been—her, who had grown up with two gay dads, for God's sake, who had watched Brittany and Santana go through the very same thing right in front of her eyes.

She was in love with Lucy Quinn Fabray.

"Oh, God," she whimpered, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Quinn."

Rachel remembered the frisson of heat she'd felt, every time Quinn had grabbed her arm or brushed too close; the way her heart fluttered in a sweet, painful agitation when she caught the scent of Quinn's perfume. She particularly remembered that day in the bathroom—not the violent, then strangely tender, scene at prom, although that was memorable as well—but the day a few weeks ago, when Quinn had revealed, beaming with pride, that she'd gotten into Yale.

The hug.

It was the first time Rachel had just impulsively hugged anyone except her fathers like that, and—oh. Quinn's arms had come around her, snug on her waist, their bodies had been pressed together, the feel of Quinn's silky hair against Rachel's cheek.

How had she quelled that swell of fire in the pit of her stomach? How, looking back, had she stopped herself from kissing Quinn?

She had wanted to. It was both easier and harder to admit it to herself now, hindsight being twenty-twenty but regret biting at her heart, that she had wanted to very much.

Rachel opened the box, grabbing the letter on top, the one that had been in the passenger seat next to Quinn. Surely, it didn't matter now…even if Quinn was alive, she wouldn't want to be with Rachel…

_Dear Rachel,_

_Don't marry Finn. I'm begging you with every fiber of my being, don't marry Finn Hudson. Choose me. Choose me instead, Rachel. I want to be with you. I love you—always have, always will, no matter what you decide. I'll be there for you…_

They were all like that, all of them. Whimpers and sobs rose in Rachel's throat as she ripped the envelopes open, her hands shaking so badly she could barely read the words in the other girl's neat, pretty script.

_I've done so many things in my life to be sorry for, but one of the worst things I've ever done is act like I don't care about you…_

_You're so beautiful. I know you want to be like me, but I only want to be like you. Not just for how you look, but for who you are. You're so brave, Rachel…_

_I dream about you all the time, the way things could be if I struck up the courage to tell you the truth, if I was lucky enough that you felt the same way…_

Sobbing, Rachel shoved the box away from her, deaf to the dull, heavy thump it made against the carpet. She curled up in a ball, gathering her pink coverlet to her chest, wishing she could just wrap herself up in pillows and blankets and just never come out of her room again.

"Oh, Quinn," she said again. "Quinn, Quinn, I love you!"

"Rachel…"

She shoved the gentle hand on her shoulder away. "Leave me alone!"

"Rachel, honey, it's time to get up…it's your wedding day!"

She sat bolt upright, startling Leroy and Hiram to the point that Hiram, bearing a tray of tea and fluffy chocolate chip pancakes, stumbled backward, almost spilling breakfast all over the floor.

Casting her gaze around the room, Rachel realized that the little oak box, which should have been on the floor with its contents spilled out around it, was gone. Her heart pounding in her throat, she dared to ask, "W-where's Quinn?"

Her fathers looked between her and each other with surprised. "Quinn Fabray? We don't know, sweetheart—"

"Her number is in my daybook," Rachel said, holding out her hand pleadingly. "Get it for me, please."

Leroy grabbed the book off the desk and handed it to his daughter. Without her needing to ask, they backed out of the room as she dialed Quinn's number with shaking fingers.

"Q-Quinn?" she gasped when the girl answered.

"Rachel? What's the matter?" Quinn asked, her voice sharp with worry. "Are you—?"

"I'm calling off the wedding," Rachel said. "I—I can't do this—I—Quinn…I…"

Very gently, so gently it made Rachel's eyes prick with fresh tears, Quinn said, "Are you in love with me, Rachel?"

"Yes," Rachel breathed, unable to censor herself. "Yeah, I am."

Across town, Quinn Fabray, gripping the phone so tightly with one hand that her knuckles were white and her fingers ached, closed her eyes with relief. _Thank you, God, _she thought. _Thank you, thank you, thank you._

"Good," Quinn blurted out, and smiled helplessly when Rachel laughed. "Good—I—I love you, too. Rachel…you know, I looked it up, and Yale and New York aren't that far away from each oth—!"

Her voice died in her throat as she wondered whether or not Rachel really wanted this. What if she wasn't ready to be in a relationship? What if she was put off by Quinn's eagerness? What if—?

"We'll have to set up a visitation schedule," Rachel was saying, in her usual brisk, bossy manner, and Quinn could have wept for joy. "It wouldn't be fair to one if she had to drive or take the train more than the other, you know."

"Okay," Quinn said, laughing. "That' fair."

As Rachel began to get into planning mode, Quinn wound the phone cord around her wrist, allowing herself to become lost in the familiar, beloved sound of Rachel's voice. Turning her head, she reached out with her free hand and lightly touched the vase of gardenias she'd taken to keeping by her bed for the past few months.

There had been a part of her for years, the part of her strangled and beaten and berated by the upright Christian girl her parents had raised, that had known her true feelings for Rachel Berry, but it wasn't until prom last year that she'd allowed herself to really be true to them. She'd known from the start that Finn was too much of a blockhead to ever pick out something as beautiful as that corsage, and the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like it had been Rachel's idea.

And when she'd done her research on the elegant blossom that had adorned her wrist that night, something had come undone in Quinn, and she'd felt simultaneously free and terrified.

_Secret love._

Well, it wasn't a secret anymore, at least.

"Quinn?"

"Oh—I'm sorry, Rach, what were you saying?"

Rachel laid out the plan again, and Quinn smiled. "That sounds…perfect," she said. "It sounds absolutely perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel felt light-headed and slightly nauseous. She wished desperately that Quinn could be here with her, but she understood that this was something she had to do alone.

While no one could deny, least of all Rachel herself, that she was one for theatrics, she dreaded confrontation. It was one thing when it was scripted; in fact, the only scenes Rachel liked doing more than an argument were, of course, show-stopping musical numbers.

But this, this was different. This was the moment where she broke Finn Hudson's heart...and as much as she loved Quinn, that didn't mean she didn't have any feelings for Finn at all. They had been through so much together, and she'd tried to convince herself over and over, especially since he'd put a ring on her finger, that she truly wanted to spend her life with him.

The more she made these stubborn attempts at telling herself she loved Finn and only Finn, though, the more she noticed Quinn's hazel eyes, the curve of the girl's thigh beneath her skirt, the breathtaking sound of her laugh.

Sometimes, when Quinn chose to sit next to her in rehearsal, Rachel's hands would start to tremble as she imagined trailing her fingers through Quinn's hair, down her back, to hold her waist and bring her closer. She'd always grip the edge of the chair as tightly as she could, willing herself to focus on what Mr. Schuester was saying, but she hadn't always succeeded.

Thinking back on it, Rachel had no clue why she'd dismissed these fantasies. It wasn't as though she was afraid that her family wouldn't support her, and this went for the Glee club as well. Maybe she was afraid of being rebuffed by Quinn, who had appeared to be straight; maybe she had tried sSo hard to tell herself she was in love with Finn that any evidence to the contrary was simply shoved to the back of her mind.

Of course, everything had changed a few days before. After a surprisingly heated argument between herself and Quinn in the bridal shop, Rachel suffered a horrible nightmare in which Quinn had been in a fatal car accident. In the dream, Rachel finally came to terms with her love for Quinn...and awoke to find that the girl was healthy and whole, had in fact not been in a car accident at all, and-miraculously-returned Rachel's feelings.

She had told Quinn she was going to call off the wedding, and she meant it...but now that Finn was on his way over, Rachel wasn't sure if she could do this. Yesterday, the day she was supposed to get married, she'd claimed to be violently ill with some sort of stomach flu.

But her dads knew better, and they'd insisted on inviting Finn over. They weren't exactly devastated that the wedding was off, but they liked Finn, and felt that he deserved an explanation.

There was a knock on her bedroom door, and she sprang off the bed. Her knees were so weak that she immediately sank down again.

"C-come in," she called in a thin, thready voice, and then dove under the covers on an impulse-she was supposed to be sick with some nasty stomach bug, after all.

Finn filled the doorway, broad-shouldered and 6'3". The look of concern on his face nearly wrenched Rachel's heart into pieces.

"How are you feeling, Rach?" he asked, coming over to the bed and nearly sitting on her legs. "Oh-sorry-"

His hand lay right next to hers on the comforter. Steeling herself, she placed her left hand-her bare left hand-over his. "F-Finn? I have someting to tell you."

Before she could continue, Finn closed his eyes and gently pulled his hand away. "You don't want to marry me, do you, Rachel?"

It was impossible to speak for a moment; despite his calm tone, she felt as though he had punched her in the stomach. "I-I-"

"I knew it when you didn't show up yesterday," he said in a curiously flat voice. "Actually, I knew it when you got into NYADA. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew you only said yes because you thought you didn't have anything else."

"Isn't that why you proposed?" Rachel blurted out, and then clapped her hand-her offensive left hand-to her mouth.

She hadn't meant to say that. She hadn't meant to say anything like that.

Finn looked surprised, but she thought she could detect a hint of subterfuge in his expression. "N-no," he protested. "I proposed because I lo-"

"You said it right in front of me, Finn!" Rachel burst out. "_Why can't I have anything good in my life? _Remember? I was sitting right next to you-in the booth, at Breadstix?"

"Yeah!" Finn retorted, his face and neck turning a blotchy red, which always happened when he was both angry and embarrassed. "And when I proposed to you, I said you were the only good thing in my life. Remember _that_, Rachel?"

He stood up, almost losing his balance as he stumbled away from her. "And what about a few weeks ago, when you had my parents and I over for-"

"-my parents and _me_-"

"God, whatever, my parents and _me_ over for dinner. And we had that fight? And you-you just acted like I had no future, no plans-you just assumed I would work right out of high school-"

"First of all," Rachel interjected, jumping to her feet and squaring up to Finn, "there is _nothing _wrong with joining the work force, and I never said there was. You did. Secondly, the only thing you've ever shown ambition for is football. You love Glee, I know that, b-but..."

Rachel faltered at the look on Finn's face. "But what, Rachel?" he asked sharply. "I'm not as good as you, is that it?"

"I-Finn-"

Before she could finish, Finn had torn out of the room, slamming the door so roughly behind him that it quivered in its frame. Promptly, Rachel burst into tears.

It wasn't supposed to have gone like that. While she hadn't expected he would be happy about it, she'd thought they would have a calm, heartfelt discussion about their relationship and the future.

Finn would have said, "I just want you to be happy, Rachel" and she would have echoed the sentiment. They would have hugged, smiled at each other. He certainly wouldn't have left in such a state that she could hear his descent down the stairs, followed by Hiram and Leroy's concerned voiced, capped off by front door banging open and then shut again.

As she dropped onto the bed again, curling up and burying her face in her pillow, she heard her phone go off, a tri-tone that heralded a new text message. Groping for it on the bedside table, she saw a text from Quinn.

_Hey, Rach. Have you let him know yet?_

With shaking fingers, Rachel tapped out a 'yes'. A few minutes later, her phone went off again, this time telling her she had an e-mail-which was also from Quinn.

It contained a link to a YouTube video. Utterly perplexed, Rachel tapped on the link to open it.

A low, sweet voiced issued from the phone's speakers.

_Heart beats fast, colors and promises. How to be brave, how can I love when I'm afraid to fall?_

Rachel smiled tremulously, her heart that had been aching a few minutes before now whole and full.

_I have died every day waiting for you. Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years. I love you for a thousand more. _

"Thank you," Rachel typed out. "Thank you so much, Quinn."

A few minutes later, this response: "For a thousand years, for a thousand more. Remember that, Rach."


	3. Chapter 3

She gathered her dark curls up into a ponytail and stood in front of the mirror, turning her head from side to side to assess the angles of her face. With a sigh of frustration, she pulled the elastic from her hair so that it fell around her shoulders, and she combed her fingers through it in a harried manner.

Grabbing a brush from the dresser and then setting it down again, Rachel took a deep breath before turning to her closet. She pulled a purple sweater-printed with a yellow owl-off a hanger and held the collar underneath her chin, spinning back to the mirror to see how it looked.

"Oh, my God," Rachel huffed, frustrated, stuffing the dress back into the closet and shutting the door with perhaps more force than necessary.

There was a tap on her bedroom door, and Leroy poked his head through. "Is everything okay in here, baby?"

Rachel turned to him, her hands flying up in frustration. "I can't find anything to wear," she said.

Her father looked at her for a moment, and then approached her closet. He opened the door just enough for his arm to fit through, reached in up to his shoulder, and rummaged through her clothes.

"Dad," she began, on the verge one of her famous tirades, when Leroy suddenly stood in front of her.

He offered her a simple blue sundress with a square neckline, the sleeves and hem embroidered with white thread. Leroy turned and grabbed a white cotton belt from the closet and draped it playfully around Rachel's neck.

"There," he declared, grinning at her. "Perfect. And leave your hair down."

She blinked at him, and he laughed. "I hate to further the gay stereotype that we're all snazzy dressers," he said. "But you have such a great closet, it's hard to resist."

Rachel grinned at him, and he said, "Now, your dad and I are heading out to visit some friends. We'll be out til about eight this evening..."

He said more, but all Rachel could process was that she'd be alone with Quinn for hours.

With a light kiss on her forehead, Leroy left, pulling the door shut behind him. Rachel dressed, cinching the belt around her waist and stepping back to admire her reflection.

On her bed, her phone buzzed. She almost jumped out of her skin, almost dreading glancing at the screen to see who it was. She wanted it to be one partiucular person so badly...but at the same time, what if this person had to cancel?

Worse, what if this person had changed their mind about...everything?

With a slightly shaking hand, Rachel snatched her phone up and looked at it. She sighed with relief-it was Quinn, as she'd hoped, and the message read: Is 3:30 okay for you?

She looked at the furry pink clock on her beside table, which read 3:15. "Yes," she murmured aloud as she typed the word in. "That sounds great."

A few second later: I'm excited.

Something unfurled in Rachel's chest, like a spring flower that contained the light and warmth of the sun. Me too, she replied. Very excited.

The next fifteen minutes passed at agonizingly slow pace. At 3:29, Rachel's emotions reached such a point that she was shaking from head to toe.

She had to laugh at herself, at how foolish she had been. How could she have mistaken her feelings for Finn as love? Even when they had kissed, let alone when they'd had sex, he had never had such an affect on her as Quinn's eminent arrival was.

In retrospect, she supposed that she had simply been enchanted by the romance of it, by the old Hollywood glamour that accompanied co-stars dating. She'd thought of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, of Clark Gable and Carole Lombard.

But, of course, it hadn't been like that at all. There was only pain and disappointment, interspersed with a few months of what had felt like happiness.

Rachel knew, perhaps better than anyone, that she was the type of person who yearned. She didn't just want things-she ached for them, she longed for them, to such a degree that it kept her up at night. Where Finn was concerned, she'd tricked herself into believing this was one of those things, something that she absolutely needed in her life.

As much as being with Finn had put her through, it had still been easier to deal with that than for her feelings for Quinn. Somehow, all the times Finn had rejected her or hurt her would not equal the devastation she'd have felt if Quinn rebuffed her.

The front door bell rang, reminding her that she didn't have to worry about that anymore. She gave a little squeal of excitment and flew downstairs, almost tripping in her haste to reach the door.

"Hi!" she cried, her voice squeaky and overly loud, as she opened the door to reveal Quinn Fabray standing on her porch.

Quinn looked so beautiful that it actually made Rachel's knees go weak, and she held on to the doorknob to keep herself from sinking to the floor in a Victorian-esque faint. Like Rachel, Quinn wore a dress, a yellow spaghetti-strap number that showed off her toned arms and gorgeous legs.

Desire struck Rachel so forcefully that her free hand almost went to alleviate the pressure between her legs without her even realizing it. She pretended to brush at a piece of lint instead as she invited Quinn inside.

As they went into the living room, Quinn took her hand.

Their fingers twisted together naturally, as if they had been doing this for years. Quinn's shy smile made the warm, wet pressure Rachel was feeling throb and swell. It was all she could do not to push Quinn down onto the couch and climb on top of her, to kiss her throat and that sweet, lovely mouth.

"I'm-I'm so happy right now," Quinn said, as they settled on the couch together, their legs touching and their hands still inertwined.

"Me too," Rachel said, and as instinctively as they'd held hands, she placed a light kiss on Quinn's mouth.

Oh, Jesus.

The taste, the softness...it was everything that Rachel had imagined it would be, and oh, she had imagined this moment. It had crept into her dreams, her fantasies...but she'd never thought it would actually happen.

She'd intended for it to be just a quick peck, but Quinn surprised her. She cradled Rachel's face between her hands and deepened the kiss.

Rachel's moan rolled into Quinn's mouth, and she responded with a breathless little whimper as Rachel climbed onto her lap, straddling her.

This was all happening incredibly fast, especially considering the fact that she and Finn had been together for a year before they'd had sex. But the desire that Rachel was feeling now had sharpened into a need so intense that it drove all coherent thought from her mind.

She found herself grinding against Quinn. Both of them were making low, desperate noises, Quinn lifting her up her hips to meet Rachel's thrusts.

"Rachel," Quinn was sighing, her head thrown back as Rachel kissed her neck. "Oh God, yes, Rachel."

Unthinkingly, Rachel grabbed Quinn's hand and slid it up her skirt so that it met the soaked cotton of her panties. "Touch me, Quinn," she begged. "Please."

When Quinn's fingers slipped inside of her, stroking rhythmically, Rachel experienced her first orgasm. It rocketed through her, and she yelled out Quinn's name over and over until the incredible sensation ebbed.

Quinn continued to stroke Rachel with one hand and touch herself with the other. Soon, they both came, and Rachel found that Quinn's pleasure only added to her own.

"W-wow," Quinn managed, and Rachel collapsed onto the couch beside her.

She lay down so that her head rested in Quinn's lap, and Quinn gently ran her fingers through Rachel's hair. "Wow," Rachel echoed, and they both laughed, a touch nervously.

They spent the rest of the day watching television, ocassionally kissing and exploring each other's bodies with gentle hands. When her fathers came home just after eight p.m., they found the girls asleep and spooning on the couch, with Roman Holiday playing on the TV.

Hiram gently shook them awake. "Quinn?" he said. "You should probably head home now, sweetheart."

They sat up and parted, Rachel immediately missing Quinn's arms around her waist, the warmth of the girl's body. Her dads went upstairs, giving them a moment of privacy to say good-bye.

Rachel stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Quinn again, Quinn winding her arms around Rachel and returning the kiss. She gently tucked a lock of hair behind Rachel's ear, carressing her cheek as she did so.

"I'll see you later, pretty girl," Quinn said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent chills down Rachel's spine. "I'll call you when I get home, okay?"

Rachel beamed at her. "Okay."

Later, curled up on her bed, fresh from a shower, Rachel talked to Quinn over the phone for hours. She fell asleep with the phone still in her hand, and dreamed that the girl on the other end was curled up beside her.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel had expected a lot of fanfare, a lot of strangled gasps and open-mouthed expressions of shock, but the group consensus seemed to be-

"We know."

She hadn't been overtly worried about telling the Glee club; she knew they loved her and Quinn, knew they just wanted both of them to be happy. Still, she'd expected more of a reaction than this: Kurt and Santana smirking at them knowingly, Brittany and Blaine both grinning like puppies, the rest of them just shaking their heads in amusement.

"Did you really think we hadn't noticed?" Sam asked. "Quinn, listen, I knew there wasn't something between us, even though I really wanted there to be-I knew, because it just hit me, the way you looked at Rachel."

Quinn's face was slightly flushed, which made her look-somehow-even prettier, rosy-cheeked and smiling. They hadn't gone much farther than what they'd done a few days ago on the couch, but Rachel wanted more; she had a feeling Quinn did, too.

But they had to take care of some things here first.

"Where's Finn?" she asked, and the group looked at each other, as if trying to pinpoint the person who would have to be the bearer of bad news.

Tightening her grip on Quinn's hand, Rachel stammered, "H-he didn't quit, did he?"

"No," Tina said. "He wouldn't do that. He knows we need him. He just-" She stopped and looked hopefully at Mike.

"-didn't want to-" Mike started, then his voice seemed to become stuck in his throat.

"He's too much of a selfish little boy to deal with this right now," Santana interjected smoothly, and shrugged when Puck threw her a sharp look. "No, listen, okay? They're happy. He claims to love them both, claims to have been in love with them both, but he can't appreciate that? No, it's bullshit."

She stood up and put her arm around Rachel's shoulders, who was so surprised that she felt her jaw drop before she could composer herself.

"I know how hard it is to come to terms with your sexuality," Santana was saying. "And I know how hard it is to look across the room at someone and realize, I am so, so in love with her."

Brittany smiled.

"I understand Frankenteen would be upset at the wedding being called off and all that," Santana continued. "I do. And yeah, I get that it's a total bombshell-at least for him. But it's time to put his big boy boxers on and realize that Rachel is with the person she should be with, the person she deserves."

The room was silent for a moment. Santana tookher arm of Rachel's shoulders, but she didn't step away from her; Brittany stood up and hugged both Rachel and Quinn tightly.

"I'm so glad for you guys," she said, and her smile was so sunny and genuine that Rachel felt her own expression brighten in response.

"Thanks, Britt," Quinn said softly, and Rachel realized her girlfriend has tears in her eyes. "Thanks, all of you. We-we knew you guys would support us."

"Always," Mercedes assured her. "We're a family, remember?"

For the first time, the words made Rachel feel slightly sad as she remembered Finn's reaction the day she'd called off the wedding. Quinn had been the one to tell him about them, for which Rachel was eternally grateful. But that also meant they hadn't spoken since that explosive encounter, and Rachel hated that.

"Nobody really answered my question," she said. "Where is he?"

"The weight room," Puck told her, and then he stood, gallantly offering her his arm. "Come on. I'll take you there."

As they made their way down the hall, Rachel was so used to holding Quinn's hand by now that she hadn't even noticed that Quinn was still at her side. She hesitated.

"I'm going with you," Quinn said, as if reading her mind. "We'll talk to him together."

Unable to deny that she was relieved, Rachel just smiled at her.

When the three of them reached the weight room, Puck stepped back. He stood there for a second, looking uncertain, and then grabbed them both up in one massive bear hug. He even lightly kissed them on their foreheads before walking away.

Sighing, Rachel pushed the door open. Before she saw Finn, she could hear him-the grunt of exertion, the clanging of the bench press as he raised the bar up and down and up again. She and Quinn cleared their throats in unison, and he let the bar rest and he sat up on the bench.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked, grabbing a towel from a rack nearby and wiping his face with it. "I don't want to talk to you."

Rachel gripped Quinn's hand, silently willing her to keep her temper in check. She could sense Quinn tensing like a lioness, her hazel eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Finn, please," Rachel said. "I-I know this is a l-lot for you to take in, b-but I still want to be friends. Or at least cordial."

Finn's brow furrowed in confusion, and Quinn gave a little snort. "Cordial means _friendly,_ Finn," she explained.

"Oh," he said, his expression rather apelike as he contempalted his next words. "Well-I'm sorry, Rach, I just can't right now, okay?"

Her stomach dropped and even though she blinked furiously, trying to keep them back, tears sprang to her eyes. "Th-that's un-understandable, Fi-Finn," she said, her voice breaking several times. "I-I h-hope we c-can-"

She was crying in earnest now, unable to finish. Spinning around, releasing Quinn's hand for the first time, she shot out of the weight room and down the hall, seeking the one place that could comfort her right now.

Quinn tried to give Rachel time to herself, but after fifteen minutes, she was unable to bear the idea of Rachel alone and sobbing. She'd left the weight room without a word almost as soon as Rachel had run out, but she'd waited for as long as she could, knowing full well after the past two years that sometimes what you really needed was a little time alone to cry it out.

She slipped into the cavernous room quietly. Rachel was standing center stage, where she belonged, and she wasn't crying anymore, although Quinn could still see the tracks tears had left on her cheeks.

Rachel was singing.

_As he begins to raise his voice, you lower yours and grant him one last choice. Drive until you lose the road or break with the ones you've followed._

The song was familiar, one that played almost incessenatly on the radio a few years before. Unithinkingly, Quinn joined in.

_He will do one of two things-he will admit to everything or he'll say he's just not the same, and you'll begin to wonder why you came._

Rachel's voice petered out as Quinn stepped up to her on the stage. She just held out her arms and Quinn pulled her close, burying her face in Rachel's thick dark hair.

"It's going to be okay, Rachel," Quinn started to say. "He'll-"

But Rachel pulled away from her, furiously wiping at her still damp cheeks. "No, you know what? Santana was right. I-if he decided he wanted to be w-with Sam or Puck, I-I'm not saying I wouldn't be surprised or upset, and I'd definitely have to sing about it, but-but if he was happy, truly happy? After all we've been through together, I couldn't begrudge him that. And I don't see why he's doing it to me."

She sat on the lip of the stage, staring blankly at the house beyond. Quinn sat next to her and rested her head on Rachel's shoulder.

"I mean, I-I understand why he would be upset, with me calling off the wedding and everything," Rachel continued, slowly, as if she was still puzzling out these thoughts. "And I know it's a hit on his male ego that I would choose a girl over him, let alone his ex-girlfriend. But...god, Quinn, you make me so happy. Happier that I've ever been in my whole life, forget just with Finn. I thought he was what I wanted for so long, but...I don't think he ever really felt so strongly for me. I think he just...he saw me as a trophy. It's not that he's incapable of love or anything, but...but he just wanted to know he could exert this power over me. A-and I'm not saying he didn't love me at all, just...he didn't need me like I needed him."

She shook her head and leaned back against Quinn, who slipped an arm around her waist. "Why do you think you needed him so much?" she asked gently, knowing Rachel needed to get this out.

"I-I guess I'd never really felt pretty, or worth anybody's attention-except where my talent was concerned, of course," Rachel said, and Quinn almost laughed. "And then, here was this popular football star, and-the first time he kissed me, it was the first time I'd ever ever been kissed, and I knew it was wrong, but-but somebody _liked _me. Somebody wanted me, even if it was just for that few seconds. And that was so crazy to me, so huge, that it just left this huge impression, like-"

"_You'll be with me,_" Quinn half-murmured, half-sang, "_like a handprint on my heart."_

The smile Rachel gave her was as dazzling as it was a relief. Quinn grinned back, happy that Rachel's mood was improving. "Yes, like that," Rachel said. "And I guess-I guess I just held onto that because I didn't think anyone else would want me."

Quinn kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Well, you were wrong about that," she said. "I want you. In every way possible, I want you. Every part of you, every day."

Rachel stood up, pulling Quinn into a standing position. "Let's go home," she said, and something in her tone made Quinn's legs feel weak.

They were on Rachel's bed, and by some incredible divine favor, her fathers once again weren't home. Quinn suspected they were so overjoyed about the fact that Rachel wasn't getting married to Finn that they were going to be lenient for a while, not to mention the fact that they rejoiced in their daughter's happiness.

Not that she cared. All she cared about was the sensation of Rachel's warm, soft skin, the scent of it, the taste of it, and the taste of her delicious mouth. Oh god, oh god, she was so turned on that she was arching her back and writhing beneath Rachel, seeking some sort of relief for the pressure between her legs.

"Rach," she moaned, tangling her fingers in Rachel's hair. "Rach, Rach, hurry, please, hurry-"

Rachel sat up, straddling Quinn, rubbing against her slowly, sensually. "Do you want me to fuck you, Quinn?" she asked, and those words set off fireworks in Quinn's stomach.

"Y-yes," she managed. "God, yes."

"Say it," Rachel commanded.

"Fuck me, Rachel," begged Quinn. "Fuck me now."

Rachel gave a hoarse, sweet little cry and then they were undressing each other, both gasping for air and moaning softly as they touched each other, and Quinn took one of Rachel's breasts in her mouth, teasing the nipple with her tongue. Rachel cried out, pulling on Quinn's hair, which strangely turned her on even more.

And then she was lying back and Rachel was kissing down her body, her hot tongue trailing down her stomach, caressing her inner thighs. Quinn moaned, pushing Rachel's head down between her legs. "Rachel, Rachel, oh god, please, _Rachel._"

The sensation of Rachel's tongue, licking, caressing, made Quinn shout out and grip the blanket with both hands, wirthing and almost screaming Rachel's name. When she orgasmed, it filled her whole body, lapping in waves from between her legs to the very tips of her toes and fingers.

"H-how do you know how to _do _that?" she asked breathlessly as Rachel lay beside her, grinning.

"I've thought about this for a long time," Rachel said, licking her lips in a way that made Quinn want her all over again. "I dreamed of it, I even Googl-"

Before she could finish, Quinn was on her, unable to control herself. She wanted Rachel to experience the same pleasure she had.

First, she gently slid two fingers inside Rachel, who let out a long, low moan. Stroking slowly, she ran her tongue over Rachel's thighs, loving the taste. When she brought her tongue to Rachel's clit, Rachel cried out, arching her back and saying, "_Yes, yes, Quinn, Qu-yes!"_

Rachel came, but Quinn didn't stop. She loved the taste of it, kissed Rachel there, licked her, and Rachel came again. Quinn didn't pull away until Rachel begged her to, saying she couldn't take it anymore.

When she lay beside her, Rachel rolled over and wrapped her arms and legs around Quinn. They lay tangled together for hours, just talking, until Rachel's fathers came home.


End file.
